


What Could've Been

by luucarii



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Cindered Shadows DLC Spoilers, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22756297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luucarii/pseuds/luucarii
Summary: [Cindered Shadows Spoilers]Byleth finds herself back in the Holy Mausoleum, desperate for time with the mother she never had a chance to meet.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	What Could've Been

**Author's Note:**

> [Alt. Title - Hello Mother]

There was something different about the Holy Mausoleum this time, Byleth noticed as she found herself descending the long staircase, the echo of her footsteps following behind her. From the first time she stepped into the Holy Tomb, there was a quiet sense of guidance in the air, as if the goddess had set it forth that Byleth was meant to be there. That her being chosen by the Sword of the Creator was only the beginning of a long string of hardships planned ahead.

Now, days after Aelfric’s defeat, it felt empty, cold, barren. Dried blood stained the ancient floors (Byleth sympathized with the poor souls who would be left to clean it up), broken weapons laid at rest from a difficult battle and a faint haunting of a desperate voice, “ _Sitri, Sitri, Sitri_ ” sang in the air. Despite the time passed, Byleth couldn’t properly reflect on what had happened. Aelfric, a friend of her father and mother, out of a desperate act of love, attempted to use the Chalice of Beginnings to revive her. It seemed to be a story told in fairytales, artifacts capable of bringing the dead back to life. Despite this, she witnessed the failure of the rite first hand, Aelfric being reduced to nothing more than a mindless beast. 

While she witnessed the horrors of the failed ceremony, Byleth saw something she would never forget: the face of her mother, calm, beautiful and at peace twenty-one years after her painful death in childbirth. Byleth smiled faintly at the memory, wistfully pointing out the slight similarities they had. Byleth inherited her thick waves, the color taking on a darker blue tone than her green. She imagined her eyes, blue like her own? Or perhaps green like her hair? Regardless, there was a faint image in Byleth’s mind of Sitri and her father, laughing together in the monastery so many moons ago.

Jeralt talked about her sparsely, only on days where he missed her, her birthday, Byleth’s, and their anniversary. But whenever stories of her came up, Jeralt always ended the memory with a wistful smile and a quiet gaze up to the sky, a silent wish for her to come back, yet a thank you for the life she had birthed. Byleth found herself wishing she could have met the woman that made her father so happy. 

As she reached the end of the Mausoleum and the tomb where her mother’s body was placed upon so few days ago, Byleth knelt down, hand over her chest.

“Hello...mother.” She whispered aloud, knowing full well her body had been properly buried above in the monastery’s cemetery. It was here where she laid eyes on her mother for the first time, and it was here where Byleth believed there would be a sliver of her spirit left to speak to.

“I’m so glad that I could finally meet you.” Byleth felt a wave of something come over her, something she had never felt before. There was a pang in her chest, her body trembled, her breathing quickened. Her legs felt weak and she slumped to the ground with a shaky exhale. She swallowed and felt a shiver run down her back as something wet trailed down her cheeks. She was...crying? She had watched Jeralt cry before, sometimes her students but had never cried herself. She had never felt a reason to, inclined to. But now, with her mother’s face clearly imprinted in her mind and the thought of never being able to speak with her, laugh with her, read with her, Byleth felt a pain much worse than any physical wound.

“Mother…” She croaked, her forehead pressing against the cold floor as a sob clawed through her throat. “Mother!”

There was no stopping it. Flashes of images, of what could’ve been, raced through Byleth’s mind. Would she have laid in bed with her, reading stories until they both fell asleep? Would she have taught her to cook? Would she have fretted and worried about her anytime she left on missions with her father? Would she have welcomed her home with open arms and eager hands ready to heal her with magic? Would she have teased her about her teenage crushes? Would she have cried at her future wedding? At her future grandchild?

As she laid there, beginning to recollect herself, Byleth felt tired. Utterly exhausted. Energy drained, she forced herself to her feet, pulling her overcoat taut around her body. Despite the silence and emptiness of the Mausoleum, Byleth felt a comforting warmth around her shoulders, drying her tears and easing the pain in her chest. A sliver of life bloomed in her heart as she stared at the tomb, where it was said Saint Seiros rested, where she found the Sword of the Creator and where she met her mother for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> So like, what if Cindered Shadows was Canon?  
> And what if Sitri was the catalyst of Byleth beginning to emote?  
> And what if this was my first fic written in like 7 months?
> 
> Bare with me, writer's block has been a b!tch.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
